


the ghosts can't come home

by theexistentialqueer



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, M/M, No Beta, PTSD, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Trans Male Character, consensual sexual content, implied/suggested references to past sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theexistentialqueer/pseuds/theexistentialqueer
Summary: When Mutsuki visits the city, he stays at the Chateau, and being with Urie and Saiko, it starts to feel like he has a family again.(The archive warnings and tags I used have been bugging me, so I'm updating them. This fic has a heavily implied reference to previous sexual assault by Torso along with mentions of gender dysphoria, particularly related to sex, but the content of this, aside from that referenced only for characterization purposes, is consensual sex between Mutsuki and Urie.)





	the ghosts can't come home

**Author's Note:**

> **Update:** (10/18/19) - I feel like I should open this with an apology, but an apology's not quite right. I've spent the last year unpacking a lot of internalized transphobia and coming to a place where I can allow myself to think of myself as trans. It's been a long road. If my writing of Mutsuki carries with it (and I'm sure it does) that lingering transphobia: I'm sorry if it hurts you. I think that writing these pieces has made me stronger and helped me grow on my own journey of gender discovery. I thought about deleting these or orphaning them, but I don't want to cut myself off from writing that helped me grow towards understanding who I really am.
> 
> I should apologize to myself first and foremost for being afraid to embrace who I am.
> 
> (Side note: having sex while wearing your binder is incredibly unsafe. Please avoid it if at all possible!)

Time passes differently outside of the city.

It's smooth and undisturbed, without the frantic chaos of missions piling on top of each other, with no time in between to introspect on how this is affecting him. It feels closer to those early days at the Chateau, when the Quinxes were newly-made, and the rhythm of their daily life had a sort of normalcy that had been missing from Mutsuki's whole life up till then.

He doesn't have sensei, Urie, Saiko, or Shirazu, but slowly, with Hougi and Aura, he starts to stitch himself back together again.

* * *

 

When Mutsuki visits the city, he stays at the Chateau. It's not that he can't afford a hotel room--honestly, the TSC would put him up and pay the bill--but part of healing means going home from time to time.

And anyway, it feels better going where Urie and Saiko are.

It's louder at the Chateau these days, and every bedroom is occupied with the influx of new Quinxes, some of them doubled up like a dormitory. Saiko tells him there are plans to open a second Chateau for a second Quinx squad, and they've tried to tap Saiko to captain it, but Saiko refuses to leave her position as Urie's lieutenant and has loudly recommended Hige for the job. 

Dinners are always a big, family affair. Mutsuki's appetite has been in constant flux since Rushima, since he first started cannibalizing ghouls: sometimes he can handle normal food, and sometimes he can't. He carries stock of TSC's artificially manufactured ghoul food on him for the days he can't eat like other people, and it doesn't bother him much that he has to anymore except when he visits the Chateau, because when he's at the Chateau, he wants to eat with everybody. 

 _How did sensei handle it,_ he wonders, _cooking for us and smiling to himself while we all ate._ (And his thoughts of sensei these days are so much quieter, like sensei is a distant acquaintance and not someone he'd once built up as his only source of emotional support.)

But at dinner that night, the smell of oyakodon doesn't make his stomach twist when one of the newer Quinxes puts his bowl before him, the Quinx cadet looking at Mutsuki with something like awe on her face before Saiko slaps her hand over her eyes and the young Quinx jerks away in embarrassment to serve the next person at the table.

Mutsuki is seated between Urie and Saiko, a place some of the newer Quinxes look to like it's a place of high honor, but to Mutsuki, it just feels like the most natural place to sit. Higemaru is at Saiko's left, and Hsiao to Urie's right, and Mutsuki can only vaguely connect some of the other faces at the table to names that have come up in reports he's read--that's Sanzu Sasu, who can almost go toe-to-toe with Hsiao, and Arima Yusa, the TSC's young darling prodigy, and that one there is Tatsumichi Ryuu...ji? No, Ryuusen, Tatsumichi Ryuusen, one of the first to volunteer as a third-generation Quinx.

And while most of the people at the table feel so alien to Mutsuki that he knows if they were killed in combat, he would read the report and think distantly, "That's too bad," without ever really caring about the person in question, there's such a feeling of family that permeates the dining room that Mutsuki feels at home with them. Even if it's not his home anymore, he's wedged warmly between Urie and Saiko, and that right there, between the two of them, that's where his home is.

* * *

 

"You ate your dinner this time," Urie notes later, when they're alone in his room. It's the room sensei used to occupy, but now that Urie is Associate Special Class and is both the Quinx squad leader and the Quinx mentor, the room is his. It's just short of tidy in a way that is very Urie, and smells faintly of sweat and paint. Mutsuki lounges on the bed on his belly, thumbing through a book, while Urie sits at his desk, his body slack, as he fills out his daily reports.

It was Urie who first noticed, before anyone else, Mutsuki's occasional aversion to human food. Urie who brought him some of the TSC's meat ration, before Nishio Kimi developed the artificial food, and watched quietly while Mutsuki ate it, and stayed afterward while Mutsuki cried in shame that he had reduced himself to this point.

Urie who wiped the blood from his mouth afterwards and said, "I don't care what you eat, stupid, so long as you're alive to eat it. (Just don't kill someone to get it, because then we'd have a problem.)"

He'd gone to see Dr Shiba and Dr Nishio after that, and since then they've been able to keep the flux in his RC cells in some degree of control, but the flux is still there.

Mutsuki places a thumb between the pages of his book, just beneath the line he'd left off on, and looks up at Urie with a faint smile. "Well, the oyakodon was delicious."

"You didn't eat enough of it though," Urie says critically, not looking up from his report. He makes a final note and signs off with a controlled flourish.

"What, and fall asleep at the table because I ate too much?" Mutsuki asks, looking back to his book. He's mimicking Saiko's speech with his reply. "That wouldn't set a very good impression for your newbies. Pass."

Urie doesn't say anything to that, apparently content for now that he's registered his criticism of Mutsuki's appetite and probably saving the real battle for another day.

They stay in companionable silence for a while after, and the sounds of the house slowly grow to silence too, one after the other, as the Quinxes withdraw to their own rooms, to their own beds, and the soft sounds of breathing fill up the empty spaces of the house. Urie keeps working with relentless focus, but the characters on the page of Mutsuki's book begin to blur together, in and out of focus, and before he knows it, he's dozing.

He wakes up when he feels the book slide from beneath his hands, and looks up to see Urie standing over him, hands poised in frozen motion as if he'd meant to shift Mutsuki beneath the covers. Mutsuki blinks up at him, shifting from vague drowsiness to a fuller awareness as Urie comes into sharper focus. He's shrugged out of his uniform's dress shirt and pinstripe pants and is bare-chested, in his usual sleep attire of plain boxers.

"Urie-kun," Mutsuki says, rolling over to make room for him. "Did I fall asleep on you? I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Urie says, tugging the covers down on his side of the bed. Mutsuki sits up and shifts back towards the head of the bed so Urie can pull back the covers for his side as well. "I had more to do than usual. I finished later than I normally do."

"Still, though..." Mutsuki holds out a hand, and Urie takes it and lets Mutsuki pull him down to his side. They don't get to see each other as frequently as they'd like, and Mutsuki feels bad that he fell asleep during that time, even while he's sure Urie feels bad that he had to work instead of spending time just with him. "I'm awake now, so it's fine."

Urie's arm settles over Mutsuki's body, his hand brushing up beneath the back of Mutsuki's shirt to settling warmly against his spine, and Mutsuki leans into him. Urie's breath brushes warmly over his cheek, smelling faintly of onions and soy sauce. The smell is changing almost imperceptibly in a way that Mutsuki can tell means probably tomorrow, or maybe the day after, he'll have to eat the TSC food packets tucked away in his suitcase, and Urie will watch him abstain from meals and frown with concern. But the trade-off of those days is that Mutsuki's senses heighten, and even now as he leans in and rests his nose against Urie's neck, he takes a deep breath, and Urie smells--

It's indescribable, how good Urie smells.

And Urie can tell, the way Mutsuki moves, that deep breath in, how Mutsuki's focus has changed, how he's suddenly _fixated_. Probably to anyone else, Mutsuki like this would be scary, but nothing about Mutsuki has ever scared Urie.

Mutsuki's mouth settles just below Urie's jaw, lips parting there so he can press open-mouthed kisses there, his tongue slipping out to lick against Urie's neck, slowly at first, then more ardently, as the taste of Urie's skin fills Mutsuki's mouth. Urie shifts and pulls Mutsuki on top of him, Mutsuki straddling either side of Urie's hips, and Mutsuki pulls up and away from Urie's neck to look down at his face, eyes dark with hunger and hair bright in the moonlight. Mutsuki braces one hand on Urie's abdomen and trails it up to his neck, and Urie shivers.

"Urie-kun," Mutsuki says before leaning down to kiss him. His mouth is hot and hungry, and it's not long before Urie's is as well, the hot feeling of Mutsuki's legs around him and Mutsuki's nails scraping over his chest making Urie feel his usual calm self-constraint strip away to reveal something else underneath just as wanting. He tugs at Mutsuki's shirt until he sits up and lifts his arms, letting Urie pull it away, and throws it away from the bed. Mutsuki leans back in, and Urie wraps an arm around his waist and pushes himself up into sitting position with his other arm, so Mutsuki is still straddling him, but now they're chest-to-chest, the textured fabric of Mutsuki's binder rubbing against his chest as Urie pushes against him, pulls Mutsuki against him, kisses him hard, their mouths open, Urie sucking at Mutsuki's tongue and Mutsuki making a keening sound that Urie feels roll down his spine.

He loves Mutsuki like this, Mutsuki who grabs at him with hot hands, eyes closed as Urie's mouth shifts from Mutsuki's mouth to Mutsuki's neck, to suck there, hot and hard, laving his tongue over Mutsuki's skin, pulling the fine skin of Mutsuki's neck between his teeth, and he knows at this moment that Mutsuki probably doesn't taste as good to him as he does to Mutsuki, but it doesn't matter, because Mutsuki tastes _so good_  anyway, salty from sweat and smelling faintly of pine needles and open water. Mutsuki takes desperate hold of Urie's boxers and tugs them down, down, over Urie's erection, and Urie kicks them off his ankles just as Mutsuki takes him in both hands and pumps once, twice, a third time, and Urie shudders, leans forward, and they shift, and then it's Urie bearing Mutsuki down onto the bed, Urie bracing himself over Mutsuki as he kisses him with desperate fervor.

Mutsuki is just in his binder and his briefs, and they have a rule: Urie doesn't touch his binder, ever since that first time, and Urie's grown more and more accustomed to seeing Mutsuki in it, so that even when that's all Mutsuki is wearing, it doesn't seem like Mutsuki is covering anything: that's just another part of Mutsuki's body, a part he doesn't like other people to see. But he can slip his hand down, and push Mutsuki's briefs away, and that's okay; he can slip his fingers down to push Mutsuki open, and slip a finger in, and Mutsuki arches his hips upward, knees coming up tight against Urie's sides, and that's okay. That's great. It's _great_.

Mutsuki feels Urie's finger slip into him, long, that delicate painter's finger, smooth and warm without his glove, and his back arches as Urie curls his finger inside him. Urie slips his finger out, then pumps it back in, then out, then in again, and when Mutsuki spreads his legs further, Urie obliges him and adds a second finger, then a third. Mutsuki gasps, and rolls his hips against Urie's hand, feels those fingers twitching inside him and filling him, but it's not enough, it's not _enough_ \--

His eyes slit open, and wildly, he looks down, and he sees Urie's erection bobbing in the space between them, brushing Mutsuki's belly. Mutsuki suddenly feels, suddenly _wants_ , and it comes from so far out of nowhere that he grabs at Urie's chest and pushes him away.

Urie stops immediately, freezes in his movements, looks down at Mutsuki with wary, worried eyes. "Mutsuki, are you o--"

"Urie-kun," Mutsuki says, cutting him off, and his voice sounds so weak and shaky it might as well be coming from another person. He feels the absence of Urie's fingers in him, and it _aches_ , that absence, that nothing filling him. "Urie-kun," he tries again, and he can't find the words, whole pages of books spill open in his mind and he doesn't know what any of them say, he can't think how to put what he wants now, what he _needs_ , into words, just that--

Just, Urie.

"Urie-kun," Mutsuki says again, softer, "Urie-kun, I want..." and he takes Urie's length in his hands, and he lifts his hips, and Urie's eyes widen when he realizes what Mutsuki is asking.\

Because they haven't done this.

They haven't tried this, since that first time.

Since Mutsuki panicked, and cried, and Urie apologized, and apologized, and apologized, and held Mutsuki until he stopped shaking, and they found other ways to pleasure each other.

Urie braces himself above Mutsuki, and his cock feels so hot and heavy and too-thick in Mutsuki's hands, and Urie says, "Mutsuki, are you sure--"

Mutsuki looks him in the eye, and that look in his eyes is half-wild, frantic, incoherent, but determined, so determined, and sure, and Urie knows if he protests Mutsuki will argue and demand and argue and insist-- "Urie-kun. Please."

Urie's eyes flutter shut. He takes a deep breath. Leans against Mutsuki and feels Mutsuki's heart hammering in his ribcage, reverberating against the beating of Urie's heart. He opens his eyes and watches Mutsuki's face as he pulls his fingers from Mutsuki and licks them, one by one, taking his time, and Mutsuki's eyes are blown wide as he watches Urie's tongue move, lazily licking Mutsuki's salty-sweetness from one finger, then the other, then the last.

"Mutsuki," Urie says, and he leans his face in so his cheek is resting against Mutsuki's, just that small warmth, that light brush of contact, the tail-ends of Urie's hair tickling but his skin against Mutsuki's is so, so soft. His breath against Mutsuki's ear is soft too, his voice uncommonly gentle. "Mutsuki, I'm here. I'm right here. I'm here with you."

His hips shift, and Mutsuki swallows, and he shifts his legs so his knees are angled up on either side of Urie, his feet pressed flat on the mattress. He thinks of Urie's fingers inside of him, and how good that was, and how it was enough, but how he wanted more, he wanted more, he wanted all of Urie, everything of Urie-- 

Everything with Urie has been so natural, but this, he doesn't know, how to do this, how to do this, how he...

Urie's moves his hand between them, guiding, and Mutsuki feels the first small touch, and then the pressure, as Urie's cock pushes into it, he feels the pressure as he takes Urie in, as he expands and contracts, every part of him feeling Urie, Urie, Urie--

_And Torso, leaning over him, his hand over Mutsuki's mouth, and Mutsuki has no hands or feet, no arms or legs, he's just a body, just a dead stump, just a thing with orifices, and Torso is saying, "Yes, Tooru, yes, you're so perfect, do you know that? You're so perfect? You're perfect, Tooru, I love you so, so much, you're the very best--"_

_Later, after Mutsuki had cut off his arms and legs, he'd cut off his penis, and shoved it in his mouth, and licked the blood off his hands and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world._

Mutsuki freezes. That image, those images, they're replaying in his brain, and he can feel something pushing into him, he can feel the weight bearing down on him, and panic fills him. He can't, he can't, he can't, he can't, he can't, _he can't_ , if he has to deal with anymore, he's going to hurt someone, he's going to cut someone, he'll kill someone, _he'll drag out their entrails, paint the walls with their blood, he'll dig a knife into his own belly and_ \--

" _Mutsuki_ ," someone says, near his ear, the voice soft and strong and warm, and something smells so good, so familiar, the panic holding grip over Mutsuki starts to lose its power, starts to grow holes. Torso never called him Mutsuki, and neither did his parents. The ones who call him Mutsuki are-- " _Mutsuki_ ," Urie says again, and Mutsuki remembers he's not a dead stump, he's not helpless, Urie is over him, but Urie isn't holding him pinned down, he has hands and feet, and his legs are arched up to press against Urie's hips, and that's not the same is before, and neither are the hands he lifts up to clasp desperately at Urie's face, watching him with concern.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He can still feel Urie, partly inside him, can feel the way his muscles tense around Urie's cock and the parts of him still empty of it. He knows Urie would pull away if he told him to go, that Urie would spend the night on the couch in the living room and let Mutsuki have the bed, to shake himself out of his terror and cry himself to sleep with that feeling of emptiness deep in his belly, and in the morning Urie would make him his shitty scrambled eggs and tell Mutsuki to shut up when he would try to apologize.

And Mutsuki? He has two good legs, knees arched to cradle Urie's hips, and he can lift his hands freely to place them on either side of Urie's face. Urie's hair, sweat-slick, falls across his forehead, and he's watching Mutsuki intently, his expression carefully blank, so that if Mutsuki panics he knows that Urie doesn't blame him for it, and that's _so Urie_.

If he said, _"Yes, please stop_ ," Urie would stop. He would cover Mutsuki with a blanket and walk away, and be there again tomorrow, and there would be no blame.

But if he said...if he said--

"No," Mutsuki says, brushing a thumb across Urie's mouth. "I don't want you to stop."

Urie watches him for a moment more, as if he's considering, as if he's deciding just how honest he thinks Mutsuki is being right now, whether Mutsuki is saying yes because he wants to and not because he feels like he has to--and then he pulls Mutsuki's thumb into his mouth and sucks on it, hard, sending shudders down Mutsuki's spine, and just as he does that, he braces his weight again, and his hips shift, and he starts to push into him again.

Mutsuki sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes shut. It's nothing like having his own fingers in him, nothing like having Urie's fingers in him, it's so different, it's-- He feels his legs shifting of their own accord, his hips shifting up, as if trying to pull more of Urie into himself, and Urie buries himself in and stops there, breathing hard, catching his breath, and waiting, waiting, waiting--

Waiting, Mutsuki realizes, to make sure Mutsuki is okay.

And Mutsuki realizes, he is. Urie is above him, a heavy, powerful presence, but not oppressive, his arms braced on either side of Mutsuki's head, his hips pinioned between Mutsuki's knees, and Mutsuki can feel minute trembles running through him, through the contact of his knees at Urie's hips, his palms against Urie's face, and mostly, mostly, Urie between his legs, Urie's cock buried deep within him.

Urie's forehead drops to touch Mutsuki's, sweat making their foreheads stick together, and his eyes open. They're so dark they're almost black, glassy and unfocused, until he takes a deep breath and his gaze shifts and Mutsuki knows he can see him in every detail.

"Hey," Urie says, and his gaze is so intense Mutsuki can't look away--he doesn't want to, but also, he _can't_. "You okay?"

And Mutsuki is--he feels every point of contact between them, feels Urie filling him up inside, feels his ten fingers and ten toes, no cuts, no bruises, no scars, just Urie, Urie, Urie, _Urie_ , and-- "Yeah," Mutsuki says, and manages a small smile. "I'm okay."

Urie lets out a deep breath, like he'd been holding on for air he was afraid he'd lose, and then his hips shift, and--

_Oh_.

Oh oh oh oh _ohhhhhhhh--_

Urie is watching him, calmly, meticulously, as he slides out and then thrusts back in, and Mutsuki's limbs start to quiver. He grabs for Urie, any part of him he can touch, his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms, back up to his face, dragging through his hair, and all the while Urie is building up a steady rhythm, pumping in and out, and Mutsuki doesn't tell his hips to buck in and out in response but they do anyway, his body reacting to the feeling or Urie against him, and then Urie is leaning over him, and taking Mutsuki's hand, just the one hand, the right hand, and pressing it against the mattress, and he's not pinning him, he's not, he's just holding him, that point of contact, Urie's hand in his, his hand in Urie's, and Urie is filling him and it's just so much, so much, so much, it's--

"Wait," Mutsuki pants desperately, something spiraling in and out of him, "waitwaitwait _waitwait_ ," and Urie stops moving, stops pushing in or pulling out, just stops, and Mutsuki is still so full and he can feel himself twitching around Urie in anticipation, but he wants, he wants, he _wants_ \--

He grabs frantically at the bottom hem of his binder and tries to pull it up, struggling into a partially-upright position that's uncomfortable both in the effort it places on his spine and the way he feels Urie's cock twitching inside him every time he moves. Urie's hands twitch, hesitating, and then they move, seeing Mutsuki's desperation, and help him push the binder up over his breasts and off his head and off the bed onto the floor.

And now he's bare before Urie, really bare, in a way he's never let himself be bare before anyone, and he watches Urie's eyes, watches as Urie's gaze falls to his breasts, and Mutsuki waits, he just waits, he waits to see that look in Urie's eyes he'd watched for that first time, when Mutsuki had pulled his briefs down and Urie had seen the dip between Mutsuki's legs and lips there, the soft, wanting flesh, the parts that men see and they think, _woman_ , and they lust, and just like last time, there's a darkness in Urie's eyes, a black _wanting_ , but there's nothing about the way Urie looks at him that makes Mutsuki thinks Urie is seeing a woman.

Urie leans in and presses an open mouth to Mutsuki's right breast, his tongue slipping out to lave against it, teeth dragging, and he works his open-mouthed kisses to Mutsuki's nipple, sucking with hard fervor. Mutsuki whines and bucks his hips against Urie, and Urie begins to move again, in slow, steady thrusts, and then faster again, and Mutsuki works in counterpoint, trying to keep Urie inside himself, trying desperately to hold onto this feeling.

He grabs Urie's hair with his free hand, wildly, bucking against every one of Urie's thrusts, and he can feel, he can tell, he can almost _know_ , the way Urie is moving isn't about his own pleasure, it's about Mutsuki's, he's moving with deliberate precision, building Mutsuki up, like he's a stringed instrument and Urie is the bow, like a violin, and Urie is thrusting into him and it's like nothing Mutsuki ever expected to be and everything he was afraid it wouldn't be, and then Urie reaches between their bodies and his fingers are at Mutsuki's clit, and Mutsuki cries out, " _Urie-kun_ , _Urie-kun, Uri--e--ku--_ " Urie's name messy in his voice, the syllables are so disjointed, but Urie does it again, and again, and Mutsuki keeps crying, jagged, nonsense syllables, and Urie's mouth moves from Mutsuki's breast up to his neck to suck there, hard, against the pulse point in his neck, that point that on Urie's neck that had smelled so _delicious_  earlier, and does it smell delicious to Urie, he wonders wildly, and it feels like something burning hot is about to erupt inside of him, Urie's cock pounding into him and Urie's fingers rubbing and tugging against his clit and Urie, Urie, Urie, _Urie_... 

Urie hits a point inside of him that feels like a crescendo, and the world goes bright and dark at once, and Mutsuki feels like he's watching a star being born.

 

* * *

 

 

When he comes to, he's curled up at Urie's side, Urie's arm curled softly over his waist and Urie's chin resting atop his head. Mutsuki's eyes flutter open, brushing the taught skin of Urie's chest, and he feels rather than sees Urie's eyes open.

Urie presses a palm flat at the bottom of Mutsuki's spine, just above his tailbone. Mutsuki feels his koukaku flutter beneath his skin, beneath Urie's touch, whispering, warm. 

"What time is it?" Mutsuki asks, and his voice is a little hoarse from how loud he'd been. Part of him feels chagrin at the thought that Urie will be pestered and teased by the other Quinxes after he leaves, and the other part of him doesn't care because they surely all know anyway, and anyway, he's pretty pleased with how Urie makes him sound.

(He's even more pleased with how he makes Urie sound, when Urie tries so hard to stay silent, and Mutsuki drags those cries out of him like music, but that'll be for another night.)

Urie picks his phone up from the bedside table to check the time. "A little after 3 AM," he answers, putting his phone back.

Mutsuki raises his eyebrows, and he curls his hands against Urie's bare chest. Neither of them are wearing anything anymore, and they'll probably have to sort through the clothes on the floor in the morning (easy: Urie is at least two sizes larger than Mutsuki is). "That late? Urie-kun, I'm sorry."

"Why?" Urie asks, as he props his chin up with his hand and looks down at Mutsuki. There's a look in his eye that's not a usual Urie look: it's pleased, and proud, and a little possessive, and it's the look Urie reserves for him when they're alone like this, when one or the other of them has made the other shake and cry, or they've both come together. "I don't mind."

Mutsuki rests his forehead against Urie's chest, letting the warm, delicious smell of Urie wrap around him, listening to his breathing work his lungs open and in, the steady sound of blood pulsing through is veins. He feels warmer than he ever has, safer than he ever has. He's ready to fall asleep like this.

"Hey, Urie-kun?" he says sleepily.

"What?"

"If I wake up before you, I'm not letting you go until I return the favor."

Urie laughs, soft and low. "I bet you'll sleep in."

"I bet I won't," Mutsuki says, and though he's tired, there's a wicked edge to it.

"Well," Urie says, and his arms around Mutsuki's waist tighten. "You better get some rest."


End file.
